No one's gotten back to me on art they need, so I actually seem to have the day free, a near-inconcievable notion. Perhaps I will go pick up more printer cartridges, just in case. You can always use more printer cartridges.
I had a dream last night, which was mostly pre-Con anxiety (the discovery that the table was two feet wide, and for some reason I had a big Russian guy with a thick accent setting up the table for me) but which contained some really weird segments, such as a rather pitiable black bear with a perfectly round patch of flesh-eating bacteria over the left side of its face, which I attempted to treat by packing the wound with a ham sandwich. (Yeah, sure, that'll work...) And then there was a woman giving some kind of lecture on how to get into showbiz. You had to buy one of these coat hangers she was selling, which had a big crucifix on them, dye the hanger red "to symbolize the womb" and then hang it in your closet for thirteen years, until the color faded. Then you could begin working on your career. Not being a total idiot, I said "You're telling me I have to wait thirteen years to start even working on a career? What kind of advice is that?!" whereupon she got quite irate. Distracted again by the bear, who's eye had just melted, and having no more ham sandwiches, I tried to locate a vet and woke up somewhat groggily going "...urghghgh." I have a feeling that my subconscious is kicking out symbolism at high speed, but it appears that I'm havin' none of it.
Tomorrow, a day of plane riding. I'll be in Philly Thursday night, but probably will be too tired to socialize with anyone, so expect to see me Friday.